cat postcard

Two Is Company

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: Oh the poor rejected lover kitty! His beloved caroling away with her paramour. So sad! Is she truly fickle? Did they etch their initials together previously in this tree trunk? Or are those the initials of the lovers he he walking by? Or was the affection all on his side? It was not meant to be.

Our third wheel is in a strange stance – partial fight and somewhat flight as the bottom half of him already seems to be walking away while the top half looks back. He wears a nice bow, unlike the singing lover, although Miss Kitty has a red collar on. The cat couple only have eyes for each other so they don’t even see him behind the tree – alas. I’m fairly sure that the toad stools growing at the base of the tree are symbolic. (Danger, poison and no less than Existential Dread according to the internet.)

This card has an embossed quality and was never mailed, nothing is written on the back. It was produced by Souvenir Postcards of New York and Berlin. I assume it was riding the crest of the Wain-esque cat craze of the post-Victorian era. Although anthropomorphic like his these cats are less pointedly satirical. Not sure who you’d send this card to where they wouldn’t feel like you were making some sort of point or message.

This card points to the whisp-o-will nature of cat affection and, shall we say, coupling of felines. I have limited personal experience of this beyond one cat, Winkie, that managed to evade our window of spaying post-adoption slip out and find a tabby with whom she had a brief liaison resulting in four kittens.

My sister Loren holding the mysterious Miss Winkie.

In retrospect, it is hard to associate those kittens with her as she made short shrift of her affiliation with them. We kept them, two gray, a tabby and a orange tiger. They became: Ping and Pong, Tigger, and Squash. Ping was a smart female and Pong a (very) dopey male. Tigger was a nice and very pretty tabby who sadly wandered off, was found once and did it again. (Our cats were free range in those days.)

Meanwhile Squash turned out to be a pale long drink of an orange cat – so long it was like he had an extra vertebrae or two. As a result would often sit on his haunches, like a human on the couch or in an armchair, comfortably bent completely in two. (My brother Edward once declared of Squash, Survives but never thrives, which seemed pointedly accurate. I have to admit that I have no memory of when Squash passed out of our lives as I wasn’t living home at the time but neither do I remember the report.)

Squash was in most other ways a rather undistinguished fellow living quietly in a multitude of cat personalities. (The kitten event had swelled the family total to unforeseen highs!) However, his distinguishing characteristic was his affection for one of the other cats. He was the rare cat in that house who would seek out another and sleep with his arms around him.

Peaches, one of the Jersey Five of cats, hates everyone (man and beast) it would seem, except the elderly cat Milty. She stealthily climbs up on a chair and curls up asleep with him. Milty, whose precise age is not known to me but a rough calculation has around 20, is largely the benevolent figurehead of senior male in that house. He likes to have a brief go at every dish of food as it is put down but otherwise he’s pretty chill.

Peaches, left, with the ever patient Milty.

Meanwhile, the role of senior cat largely belongs to the four year old enormous all black male, Beauregard or Beau. That said Blackie, of the visiting New York cats, believes himself to be senior cat when we are in NJ. Beau will take a certain amount of that since B doesn’t eat with them which would probably cause the imminent collapse of that small kingdom.

There are occasional blow ups and one took place last summer while I was on a call with the two Board Chairs from work. That said, if you are going to have a cat fight explosion while on an important work call its good that you work for an animal hospital. They are very forgiving about animal interruptions on zoom.

Blackie, looking entirely black since we can’t see the white star on his chest.

Going back to Winkie, who was a very smart little polydactyl calico cat. Having produced said kittens (in my parent’s closet, the carpet was never quite the same) and caring for them a scant amount of time she pretended that she had no memory of them nor where they came from and generally treated them with a superior attitude and disgust as interlopers we’d wished on her one day. Such is the attitude of cats.

Tail End

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: Today I have a somewhat odd Louis Wain card which I have to assume is an early one, before he found his feline métier in the more satirical and representational vision of cats. This black one is loaded up with symbols of luck – a black cat being lucky in Great Britain, if not here in the US. (Proving them to be sensible sorts in this regard – in my opinion!)

This card was never used and is attributed to the Alphalsa Publishing Company in London. This company seems to have existed, under shifting names, between 1910 and 1930, although there is an intimation that the archive from it existed into the 1960’s when it was lost in a fire. The back of the card also identifies it as The Aloha Postcard. Louis Wain and Alpha get credit on the bottom front of this card.

A somewhat peevish Blackie on my lap the other morning. He wanted my chair.

This kit is grinning from ear to ear and doesn’t seem to mind the bag of gold piled atop his head. He has symbols of luck and prosperity tied to his tail (don’t try this at home) and around his neck – those ancient symbols (still used for their original purpose in Eastern cultures) which a decade or two later became swastikas. A horseshoe is thrown in for good measure although I was always told that they should go in the other direction in order to keep the luck from pouring out.

In addition to fortune, this card is promoting Health, Wealth and Goodluck to the Very Tail End. I like the idea that this little fellow is good luck to the tip of his tail. While not being especially superstitious about luck symbols – good or bad – I can appreciate picking up a good heads up penny now and then.

Beauregard during a recent visit to NJ.

I, of course, subscribe to the black cats are good luck theory – thank you Beauregard and Blackie! Blackie cheats it with a white badge on his chest and some hidden on his tummy. You need to look really closely at Beau (one of the Jersey five) to find a few white hairs on his chest. Kim has a theory that the white star on the chest was an evolutionary move to protect all black cats from superstitious fear.

Meanwhile, I am utterly sold on the friendly good tempered nature of male black cats which I have only discovered with these two – a longstanding tuxedo fancier I love them but they tend to another personality altogether. Cookie is a girl of course which is quite different anyway, but she is comparatively shrill and less easy going than her fraternal counterpart.

Some Tale

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: Kicking off the Memorial Day weekend with this somewhat military cat card. Given the general lack of sympathy among cats for each other (some special cases notwithstanding) this gray kit has a tough time convincing his rather intense superior officer that he is under the weather. The long paw of the law as represented by this black cat, cap forward, is very upright as he judges this underling wanting. I love our cat Blackie but boy, I wouldn’t want him judging me – he’d look just like this I think. It’s an odd card and it was the black cat in particular that sold me on it. (Of course Blackie is constantly judging us – not to mention his sister Cookie!)

The two tiny identifying markers on the front of the card are Oilette and FEM. The tracks on FEM are obscured or gone but I am told that Oilette seems to be best known as a series of postcards that were made to look like oil paintings for the famed Tuck postcard company, as opposed to this very water color like illustration. Someone drawing it really knew cats however. This is a Tuck card as well.

The postmark is obscured but it was mailed from Clapham SW and probably on November 17. It is addressed to Miss C. Steer, Lower Froyle, Nr Alton, Hants. The recipient appears to be the sister of the writer who pens, Dear Con, just a card, we received the parcel safely and very many thanks for them, Margie was going to write but she has so many home lessons (?) to do. Sorry Mothers feet are so bad hope they will be better love to D and of course Mother and yourself. Yours best from us all. xxxxx An additional note was added in pencil at the top, received mother’s letter this morning 8.11.17. Even today Lower Froyle seems to be a fairly remote part of Hampshire according to Google.

This takes me to a bit of a tangent sick leave seems to be something that is being phased out, or perhaps it just is where I work now. Instead of sick leave there are PTO days and you can use them for sick or annual leave. (Not sure how Planned Time Off is waking up with the sniffles but okay I guess.) There is additional accrued sick leave for more substantial illness, surgery and the like and you need a doc’s note to take that.

As someone who doesn’t take a lot of sick leave it doesn’t especially affect me a lot, but it seems like a bad trend and a bit unfriendly too – like this card. I do believe that if folks are sick they should stay home and get better. Covid should have taught us that if nothing else and I don’t especially want to get sick because they have come to the office rather than take the day off. Meanwhile, I have substantial oral surgery coming up and I did get a note from my doc and will take a day and a half of medical leave for it – its on the Thursday so I am going to assume with the weekend I will be back in the saddle on the Monday.

These are a bit bleak, if somewhat military associated, as thoughts go on the first (if cloudy and cold) morning of a three day holiday weekend. (Former Memorial Day posts attest to the routine cold and wetness of my childhood living near the beach. One can be found here.) Tomorrow I head to New Jersey where I will, somewhat belatedly, get my dahlias planted in pots on the porch to start the season. I believe there are some geraniums blooming in the kitchen that can go back out front in those pots where they will be cheerful and deer deterring. We’ll hope for a jollier post tomorrow!

Stand Over Tom and Let Puss Eat

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: Today we have more from the deep well of postcards purchased a few months ago. This is an odd card, part of a series that seemed to all be along this sort of theme of two cats snubbing one.

On my card it there is the name Hochhausler with a distinct initial E although I see them with a first initial A online. Either way Hochhausler has not left much of a trail to be picked up online and it isn’t clear to me, but I think this is the producer of cards rather than the artist, however hard to say.

Someone has written on both sides of this card, contributing a bit of drama to the overall effect. At the bottom of the front in pencil, stand over Tom and let Puss eat the bread without salt and then, under the black and white tabby holding the music, Puss and the other identified as Tommy. Seems to me that it is the other cat they should be worried about. (Incidentally, it seems that something was written and erased, now illegible, under the other cat.) And who among us with cats hasn’t had to ensure that one doesn’t eat it all – Blackie, I’m talking about you!

Meanwhile, we have two snotty cats being mean to the third. All three are striped tabby types and the one is skulking away (as cats will) tail tucked where we can’t see it. Clearly these other two are rule the roost popular types that one meets as a youngster. Poor kit! Meanwhile, Tommy has a book under his arm which has Reich Commers (?) inscribed on the front. The card predates the world wars so it can’t be a reference to Reich Commerce and so the sharpness of the commentary somewhat lost on us. This belongs to a series of cat cards with this two against one as a theme, but I was unable to share the few scant further examples from the internet.

This series would likely be in response to the popularity of Louis Wain at the time and people trying to cop his take on social intercourse via cat drawings. This would perhaps go in the, it’s harder than it looks category of cards as the acid take falls a bit flatter than the Wain equivalent which would laugh up its sleeve at the full of themselves instigators as well.

Pams-Pictorama.com Collection.

On the back of the card it says, I am getting along fine with the cats. They take their places fine but puss has never come back. I am going to bake bread today but am going to sell (?) it. It is addressed to Carrie Duckworth–Chariton R.R. Iowa c/o Earnest Duckworth. The cancellation is hard to read but appears to be August, 1902. We can see that this postcard series was distributed in Europe as well as in the US, my guess is that it is European in origin.

The card is unsigned – clearly the recipients were just expected to know who sent it. Oh my. Now I am worried about Puss who never came back. She sounds very blithe about the cats left in her care! And there is the remark about letting Puss eat the bread without salt. Hmmm. (I happen to like salt on my buttered bread but maybe not what she is referring to?)

I will be left hoping that Puss either came home or found better digs elsewhere as roaming cats will if their needs are not fully met – and perhaps even if they are. I read many stories online about cats who beg in neighborhoods and are fed by a number of people assuming they are strays and the only one feeding them. One day they are otherwise enlightened as someone identifies themselves as the kit’s owner – proving however in a sense that no one ever really owns a cat.

He Loves Me!

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: A few weeks ago I posted another postcard by Maurice Boulanger, a Wain wannabe. Boulanger’s cats have their very own maniacal streak although perhaps they lack the intellect of Wain’s calculating cats of the same period. (The earlier post can be found here.) I noted that this card was a bit more saccharine and I’m not sure I actually find it thus today as I look at its nuttiness.

This somewhat tatty card came from the same sale that has supplied Pictorama with numerous posts since March, a big buy that keeps on giving. This was from a set of no less than six – I saw the set in mint condition in an auction, but could only share these three below.

Daisies are clearly the theme here and the fluffy white cat blends a bit with the giant one she is holding. Interesting that there is a green leaf hanging off the daisy stem. The kitties hold paws (albeit a bit awkwardly) and somehow he stretches one long paw arm around her. She has a nice big bow on too. They look at each other with adoring googly eyes. More daisies decorate the border in a very Arts and Crafts pattern of the time and it climbs down the card behind the fellow. Next to the girl kitty it says, He loves me! He loves me not! He loves me!

I myself never actually picked daisies (or therefore did this sort of calculating if someone love me) as a child. Weirdly where I grew up did not seem to produce wild daisies. We had an abundance of dandelions but few daisies. I always think that illustrations like this are more like the giant Gerber ones, more often in bright colors, that need planting and tending but are worth the effort.

Gerber Daisies – maybe I should plant some?

It looks like this card was in an album as the four corners are nibbled away, probably held in by those black paper triangles. For all of that it is a bit bent and something white has spotted the surface if you look carefully – this makes me feel like this card was well loved however.

Written on the back is Paul Starr and Joanna Penna and a $2 notation. (I didn’t pay a lot but more than $2.) It was never mailed so it is undated.

I love the unbridled nuttiness of this card and in fact the entire series. I know little about Mr. Boulanger but clearly he had a charmingly whacky streak and his jolly kits are still hot stuff today.

I Am Enjoying Myself Very Much

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Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: Today’s card is so painted and embellished that I almost hesitated to say it was a photo but of course it is. There was something about this card when I spotted it recently, the evocative mood of this little girl and kitty, that appealed to me. She is dressed up for her photo and posing nicely for the camera but so is puss. (While not quite enthused he is submitting his beautiful Persian self passively to the pose anyway.)

I grab up Blackie like this not infrequently. Cats don’t especially like to be hugged and held this way, especially while you are not seated and if it isn’t their idea, but he will permit me that. Once in a rare while Cookie is hounding me for attention and I will even pick her up and carry her around for a few minutes. Oddly it quiets her down but to do it of my own accord would be inviting wounds.

A somewhat peevish and demanding Blackie on my lap in front of the tangle of junk on my desk.

Little almost glowing dots of paint have been applied to the trim on the little girl’s dress, like tiny pearls, probably even brighter when the card was new and cleaner. Her hair ribbon is sumptuously velvety holding her abundant curls, a gold bracelet on her arm. An artificial blush to her cheeks and rosiness to her lips have been applied via a paint brush in the same tones as the flowers on her dress. She is not a child having her photo taken for her doting parents, she is hired for this reproduction card.

I’m not sure I really have many other photos in my collection that are like this although they exist in abundance. It relates most closely to the sort of birthday greeting cards of a small child and Felix that I might have,

I cannot blame cats for disliking that loss of autonomy. I am quite sure if I was small enough to be carried about I would resent it as well and I feel a bit guilty every time I turn the bathroom water off while Blackie has commandeered the sink there. He would of course have me turn it on and off all day and I have other plans for my time but it is unfortunate he has been unable to acquire the needed skill.

I always had a strong disliked not being in charge of my own destiny, even in the smallest sense, since I was a child. I was a quiet kid but I remember that I seethed a bit at the casual bouncing to and fro you are subjected to as a small child – left to stay with grandma or required to go somewhere or do something when you would prefer not to. I looked forward to adulthood as the end of that and I was right. Some of that attitude has lingered, although my reluctance to learn to drive a car has bedeviled it a bit – if you cannot drive you are dependent on others, unless of course you live in New York City which I do for the most part.

Back of card.

The back of the card shows it was mailed on June 20, 1912 – although the year is a bit obscured. It was mailed to the Missis Speedays in Keswick, but I cannot see if it says where it was mailed from. In a bold black hand it says, I am enjoying myself very much. I don’t think I will come home when you come back. Peter. We’ll assume it was tongue in cheek but there is something about it that maybe seems a bit serious too. Alas, what were the Misses doing in Keswick and where was Peter? Poor Peter was left out.

Despite what I wrote earlier, Blackie is on my lap and positively insisting on hugs and pets – both handed mind you. It isn’t just what we don’t want, but equally the attention we insist on too. I suppose this holds for people as well as cats.

The Commanding Officer

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Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: Another in the long line of postcards from the show earlier this month. Although I am somewhat judicious in my acquisition of this avenue of cat photography they do slip in occasionally. Pictorama readers know I have a bit of a weak spot especially for kittens posing with the moon cards. (Read about one of those here.) Cats in clothes can be worthy of my notice, like this one.

Recent photo of Milty, senior cat of NJ.

This senior fellow of a puss in this picture is peeved at his human constructed accoutrements. Maybe his longstanding role at the photo studio was more mouser than model normally – he is an elder statesman of cats no doubt and I am sure claws in teeth sufficed for his real world duties. (He reminds me of my cat Milty whose age seems to hover in the early 20’s.)

Pams-Pictorama.com Collection.

Someone has given him a tiny sword to wear at his side and a homemade tri-corner hat with plume stuck in, but again he seems decidedly displeased with the decoration. He does have a battle weary mug and the aging physique of an old guy. His tail must be wrapped around him on the other side as no sign of it. His white paws are a bit grotty and the whites around his chin not quite white any longer either. His fur is that of an elderly cat.

The card has a copyright by the Rotograph Company from 1906 on the front. And this particular one was mailed in 1909, on August 13 from North Hackensack, NJ. It was mailed to Miss D. A. Brown, River Edge, NJ. I was not familiar with River Edge and it turns out to be near Paramus in northern Jersey.

The slightly illegible back of the card.

I have to say, although the handwriting on the face of it looks legible I am having trouble decoding the message address to Dolores. A card from Dolores seems to have arrived by a later train then it should have and there are plans here for the evening in question. It gives some thoughts about places they may go (Maeks? she has written clearly) and R.E. and ends with instruction to come in the surrey with your Dexter and it is signed Aunt Lila. Of course I can’t be sure but Aunt Lila probably didn’t care what card she grabbed for this purpose, however she too may have been aptly named The Commanding Officer. Just a guess.

Actually, I pulled this card out of the stack because I think I too am a bit weary from my roles and responsibilities right now as captain of this particular ship. Demands of work, taxes, wrapping up my mother’s estate and even the imperative to make soup on this rainy Saturday, seems like more than I should have taken on – however understanding that much of it arrived unbidden and of its own accord. Maybe it is just a case of the April blues, but this commanding officer (such as I am) is tired today and I too would prefer to lose the yoke of tiny sword and hat and romp freely for a bit.

I Love Her and She Loves Me

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: Back in May of ’20 I purchased a card in this series for Kim. I had never seen the work of the artist Clivette and I wrote a post on him and the card which can be found here, and another shortly after which can be found here. I understand from a reader that Mr. Clivette was a much bigger deal than I had figured out so I am not sure I have given him his full due. A few weeks ago I was making a purchase on Instagram and threw this card onto the order at the last minute.

Although unstamped the back does have childish writing in pencil. It says, Miss Ina S Chilling, Wray, Colo.

Back of the card.

Unlike the Butler Deitch kits, whom we will discuss in a minute, these are white cats instead of black ones and if you are like me you might subscribe to the theory that different color cats have different natures. White cats are a bit more prim than black ones in my opinion. Years ago my mom had one named Kittsy. She was extremely timid, pinkish eyes and never grew much beyond kitten-sized.

We are two little kitties
As kind as can be
I love her and she loves me

Although this card professes the affection between these felines they don’t look especially fond of each other frankly.

Pams-Pictorama.com Collection.

For those of you following the tale of our summer decamp to New Jersey you already know that Cookie and Blackie have taken the move hard and have gone on a hunger strike of sorts. Although Cookie is showing signs of starting to eat on her own after a week of hand feeding, Blackie will not take the plunge. In addition, they appear to take no comfort in each other and in fact I just had to break up a growling, hissing fiesta. Brother and sister they have always been together, but sibling affection evidently only goes so far in Catland.

Turns out that Beau is Blackie’s doppleganger! Here they are having a moment. Beau has been very welcoming.

I have known cats who evidenced real affection for each other. Growing up we had a long skinny orange chap named Squash and he had an extreme fondness for another cat of the house. I am having trouble remembering which cat he used to curl up with. They would sleep with their arms around each other.

As I write this, late on Friday night, at long last I hear the gentle crunch, crunch, crunch of Blackie eating some dry food from the dish!

Chow Time

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: This very homemade photo postcard caught my eye for some reason. It is dated January 15, 1920, handwritten on both front and back. It was never sent and I don’t know where it hails from, but it is a snowy January locale. An out of season litter of kittens is scarfing down a meal with what appears to be their mom, on the side of this clapboard house.

I can make out a winter washtub, buckets, a stool and what might be a water pump although some of it is a bit indistinct. Kitties are being fed on a wooden walkway, presumably raised above the snow to minimize the inevitable mud being traipsed in the house. This cat quartet is enjoying meals from somewhat outsized bowls – the one kitten downright dwarfed by his and you wonder if he will need to actually climb in to get the last of his dinner. I am sure, however, that he or she will manage.

I grew up in a home that became increasing well endowed with cats over time. With a beginning investment of one, then two, somehow we slipped into a bevy of kitties over time. Once we weren’t quick enough and a litter of kittens set off a chain effect, and for a number of years the household expanded to accommodate a more or less two to one cat to human ratio. Seems, at least for us Butlers, cats are a slippery slope.

The Butler cat buffet in action.

This mini herd of felines would all come running when they heard my mother call, Chow time! To my memory there was no getting picky over food types and flavors back in that time. There were rather generic cans of cat food and bags or boxes of dry food and cats ate it – unless of course they were stealing food off the table (one cat, Zipper, managed to steal a steak off the table – dropped it right into the happy jaws of our waiting German Shepard, she who definitely won the lottery that day), or committing some other food related sin. Being picky was not among those sins however.

Predating the chow time call was the simple sound of an electric can opener which made the cats of the day come running. For the younger reader, this device was very popular before the advent of the pop top can. It came after the hand can opener (several which still reside in my kitchen), but made opening the numerous canned goods of the day quicker I guess. They still exist, but seem to have waned in popularity. Of course this meant that there were many false food calls for cats, but they remained at the ready nevertheless.

Milty and Stormy (gray tabby) with a special bowl I put out in the living room for her since no one wants to let her eat in the kitchen.

Our cats, Blackie and Cookie, are on a fairly strict eating schedule of 6am and 6pm daily, although they have dry food to snack on between times. Kim has the primary responsibility for cat feeding (and Blackie’s insulin shots now which follow immediately) and the kits are pretty good about it although they, like all cats, would love to adopt a more open handed feeding schedule. We continue to demur.

The only view we much every get of Hobo, the persistent backdoor stray in NJ.

Mom’s cats, on the other hand, enjoy a less regulated, ongoing Butler buffet of wet and dry food. Hobo, our wily stray who has been showing up for more regular meals now that I am more frequently in residence, gobbles two to three cans at a go. I joke that he must have a hollow leg, but I guess he is a fellow who is unsure where his next meal will come from and maximizes his opportunities. For the cats in residence, the caregivers and I open cat food cans with impunity upon my mother’s request and the pantry groans and abounds with Chewy boxes.

Cat-a-pult

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: I am in love with this photo and snatched it up as quickly as I could! A timeless image for cat lovers, caught on an early photo postcard. Somehow, even with slower film, someone managed to catch this perfect moment, the woman in her full white long cotton skirt, her hair carefully done. Puss, who was to have his photo taken, probably in her arms, has other ideas.

So lucky that the camera man or woman was quick on the draw! Kit is quite a fluffy furry fellow or miss – tail flying behind him or her – I am betting on him as it appears to maybe be an orange tabby and those are mostly male.

There are leaves on the ground which create a pattern and some space and a Tudor-style house in the background. It is interesting to note that this was used as a Christmas card. Printed on the back with what appears to have been a stamp is some holly and the message, A Merry Xmas to You. Hand written is also, With Mr. &Mrs. Hook’s best wishes 1912, and in the corner just, Jessie Hook.

I like to imagine that the photo, presumably of Jessie, was taken in the early fall and Jessie so amused it became the Christmas card.

Miss Stormy.

It is hard to believe, but here at mom’s there are five cats and almost none will let me pet them. There is of course, Stormy (Cat of Mystery) who will allow no one to pet her – or even see her very often.

For those of you who are new to her story, she appeared one (very stormy) night and my mom put a trap out for her. She strolled into it immediately. After shots and spaying, mom kept her with an eye to finding her a home. Despite some internet pleading on my part, we had no takers and Stormy joined the family – although a bit like a shadow. She appears in the evening most often when the house is at its most quiet. She likes to sleep in a chair near my mom – who never leaves her chair so Stormy likes that stationary aspect of her.

Peaches – has cattitude!

Peaches, another female, was found as a kitten trapped in a basement in a neighboring town, yelling her head off until someone found her. The someone was a friend of my cousin and somehow Peaches also found her way to mom’s house. She is very feral and fiercely keeps humans at a distance of never less than about a foot. Recently though she trusts us enough for a stretch and a roll around on the kitchen floor in front of all of us. I have a long term goal of petting her one day.

Beau

Meanwhile, my mom’s cat Beau (Beauregard) is utterly devoted to her. He glared at us humans who are clearly inadequate to the task of caring for her to his standards.

He’s rarely further than the chair next to her. His yellow eyes following our every move. Mom rescued him from a photo she received from a Newark shelter years ago. He somehow understands that she moved heaven and earth to get him and appreciates it.

Milty and Peaches, uneasy alliance.

Beau will allow me to pet him and if necessary I am usually designated to move him if necessary – if mom wants to eat let’s say. I usually put him on my coat for a snuggle which is novel and meets with his approval.

Gus is another stray who wandered into the house a few years ago. He is a very mild mannered cat – a bit under the thumb of Beau and the elder statesman, Milty. He has a major crush on one of mom’s care givers and snuggles with her, but never can let me get more than about three inches away.

Lastly is Milty – he came from a Milton Road in Newark many years ago. Most senior cat, he is approaching his second decade. He is the squeaky wheel of the house and will seat himself in front of you (or on you) and demand food or attention. Occasionally he takes on Beau to remind him he is senior cat and not down yet.

Milty, senior cat.

I am missing Kim and my own Cookie and Blackie during this extended stay in New Jersey. However, while I may not get pets with each of the (sometimes) slippery kitties here I appreciate their antics and mom enjoys each and every one and loves being surrounded by them every day.